Seduced by a Shifter Read online

  “Full moon. Wolves. Werewolves. Oh God. I had sex with a werewolf.” Several times, in fact. Recalling those times and what they’d done, the hand pressed against her pounding heart flew to her neck. “He bit me!” Several times, in fact.

  Jumping to her feet, she raced into the bathroom, flicking the florescent light on with an impatient jerk. Leaning over the vanity, she yanked aside the collar of her sweatshirt and probed at the bruise riding low on her neck, at her shoulder.

  It looked just like a hickey. Desperate for a closer look, she climbed onto the vanity and all but shoved her face in the mirror. Were those teeth marks?

  “Oh God. I’m gonna turn into a wolf.” She didn’t want to turn furry. And according to every werewolf legend spinning through her mind, it was every single month during the full moon. . Hormonal changes with her monthly period was enough for her, thank you very much. Drawing her lips back, she checked her teeth, then her eyes, recalling those times Ben’s had rimmed with amber.

  No fangs, no amber, just normal teeth and clear blue eyes. Now she frowned at her reflection. “Why am I not turning?”

  Groaning at herself, she hopped off the sink and into her bedroom, where she picked up her phone and dialed Scott. No answer. Joe. Again, no answer. When she rang Ben, the Music Box Dancer melody went off on the table next to the bed.

  Oh, she was going to murder their furry asses.

  She put on underwear and several layers of clothes, plus her boots, before heading into the foyer closet for her coat and gloves. Ben had stated he wouldn’t be long and when he returned, she would be there. The liar. The hypocrite.

  She all but stomped onto the porch, pacing as she waited for his return.

  Getting all up in my face about not telling him I was a virgin when he’s a freaking werewolf! How dare he? And Joe and Scott?

  Oh God. And Rome? Rome knew these people. Trusted them with her life. Had he known? He’d called Ben a pup, both as Ben the human and Ben the wolf. Rome had to have known!

  She put a shaking hand to her temple. Was Rome a werewolf as well?

  Backing up, she dropped into the nearest chair, letting her mind process all the strange things she’d encountered and filed away.

  It started that first night in Kaylie’s home when Willow had heard growls and looked around for a dog. Then the weird tingling she’d felt when Dean had basically gotten in Ben’s and Rome’s faces.

  Was Dean a wolfman too? Then what about Kaylie? Oh God. And Tess? Uploading the time in Tess’s truck on the day of their shopping expedition, Willow recalled Tess’s strange reaction to Willow’s comment about being sick. Tess had sniffed her.

  Was Tess a wolfman, too? Er, wolfwoman? Was Tess even now wandering the forest? Hunting?

  Oh God. The hunting lodge. Now that all made a kind of weird sense.

  Now her mind went crazy, zipping down the list of people she’d met and seen, wondering if they were all wolf people.

  A prickling sensation crawled up her spine and she looked up to see three wolves staring at her, all breathing hard as if they’d been out running at breakneck speeds. Two were dark brown and one a burnished tan, the latter nearly the color of Ben’s hair, minus the sun streaks.

  The three of them stood still as statues at the base of the steps, staring up at Willow, almost as if in—what? Fear? Amusement? Were they off laughing behind her back?

  Could wolves laugh?

  And why she wasn’t locking herself inside or running away screaming didn’t even cross her mind. Willow settled back, arms crossed tight over her vulnerable middle. Her eyes narrowed. She was simply too pissed to be scared, much less think rationally as she began to chide a two-hundred-pound predator. “Well. You got anything to say for yourself?” The tan wolf cocked his head, a human gesture that only made her angrier. “Ben.” She said his name like it was dog poo. Or wolf poo, in this case.

  The two dark wolves started yipping, clearly unhappy as they danced about. She glared at them. “Shut up. Some bodyguards you are, running off and leaving me all alone. Don’t think I’m not going to strip the fur off you two as well. Scott. Joe.”

  At her words, or maybe her tone, they lowered their heads, as if saying they were sorry.

  Oh, how one’s life could change in a mere week. She’d made new friends, learned to ski, lost her virginity—and possibly her heart—and now she’d been confronted with the reality of a myth.

  Her deadly glare shot back to Ben. “I’d better not turn into a wolf.” The tan creature shook its massive head and took a step towards her. Wariness rather than fear caused her to point a finger at the advancing wolf. “Do not get any closer.”

  On the heels of the beast’s hearty sigh came another light show. Willow blinked in rapid succession as Ben, in all his two-legged naked glory, appeared. For once he seemed at a loss for words.

  Good. Maybe that means he feels bad. The jerk.

  But damn, he still looked good. The broad shoulders, the rippled torso, the muscled thighs that only a few hours ago had been cradled between her own. She could feel her interest rekindle and crossed her restless legs.

  Stupid physical reaction.

  His nose flared, eyelids dropping into that sleepy, sexy look that made her melt, as if he could scent her arousal. He took a purposeful step forward. Then another.

  Oh God. He could smell her arousal, couldn’t he? Wolves, like dogs, could smell better than humans.

  Oh hell. Dogs. Men. Pheromones. Now she remembered the whole conversation at Tess’s wedding shower.

  She narrowed her eyes into little slits of pure fury, hoping he read the death threat glowing in her eyes as easily as he read her carnal reaction to him. Evidently he could, since he came to a halt at the top of the steps. He glanced away, his hands opening and closing into fists at his side. After a moment he cleared his throat. “If you wouldn’t mind. While I enjoy the cool weather, it doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.”

  “What?” His chin jutted at her chair and she shifted up, pulling his jeans and shirt from under her. He wanted his clothes? Fine. He could have them. She threw them at him, wide, but he caught them deftly in his big hands. After he was dressed he looked at her. “I’m afraid to say it, but, boots too, please?”

  Reaching down, she hurled one boot after the other right at his face. Again he caught them easily.

  She should have thrown them over the rail and into the snow.

  “Why don’t we go inside for this?” Willow held back a nasty response when Ben looked pointedly at the two other wolves, obviously eavesdropping.

  “Fine,” she snarled. Look at her, acting all wolfy. Besides, she was cold.

  She bolted inside before Ben could open the door and sat stiffly on a kitchen chair, closest to the living room. Ben eased down on her left, running a hand through his hair. He looked, uneasy. Pained, even. She refused to be concerned.

  Finally he leaned forward, forearms resting on the table. “At least you’re not running away from me.” He studied the tabletop with his thumb, the sensual rubbing making her nipples poke out for the same touch.

  Stupid nipples. “I’m too angry to run.”

  His brow creased. “Because I didn’t tell you or because of who I am?”

  “Both.”

  “Will.” He looked at her, his voice low as he appealed to her logical side. “You have to understand why we don’t go around announcing what we are to everyone.”

  Logic be damned. “So I’m considered everyone?”

  A flash of temper rose in his eyes before he squashed it. “No. You’re special.”

  Bastard. “Oh, really?”

  When he reached across the table she shoved her chair back. Interestingly, Ben squeezed his eyes shut and the hands on the table fisted again. It was obvious he wanted to touch her, but she would not capitulate. She’d given enough of herself.

  “We’re called shifters. Like the fabled werewolves, we heal faster than humans, but not immediately. We’re also stronger, faster, have a
much higher metabolism rate, and possess keener senses. Unlike the fictional werewolf, we are not allergic to silver or live for hundreds of years, and we don’t make others through our bite. While it’s rare one of our kind contracts a disease, we still age and can die as easily as a human, or a timber wolf, for that matter.”

  So she wasn’t going to turn furry next full moon. Good to know. “Is everyone in this town a...shifter?”

  A definite shake of his head. “No. Only about one-fourth of the male population. Dean is not only the mayor, he’s the pack alpha.” From there he proceeded to explain the pack structure, looking proud when he claimed he was one of the eight leaders and also one of a handful of his kind strong enough to rein in their beast on the full moon. These few held enough control they could shift forms outside of the magical pull, which was why he was able to come to her on all fours those first two nights.

  Her eyes got bigger, her brows buried under the soft sweep of her bangs. But one thing stood out the most. “The male population?”

  A slow nod. “Only the males can shift into wolf form. The females can’t.”

  Her feminist side shouted “double standard rip-off” while she simply asked, “Why?”

  His head tilted to the side. “If they had to change every full moon, they wouldn’t be able to carry our young.”

  Willow’s heart flipped in her chest. The thought of carrying Ben’s young should terrify her, but the idea of a little boy with his hair and bronze eyes running around, laughing, just like his daddy, filled her with a deep longing.

  Turning her mind from the impossible, she instead focused on his information, relieved her new friends weren’t werewolves. “So the females are basically human.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Ah. No.” At her questioning look, Ben explained. “Most of the women in town, like the men, are indeed human. Take Kaylie. Even though she’s married to my alpha, she’s one hundred percent human.”

  Willow nodded. “So Tess is—”

  “A shifter. In the sense that she is faster and stronger than a human and her senses are keener than a human’s. But she can’t shift form.”

  Well. There went her relief bubble. Ben made it sound like Tess, and all the female shifters actually, were sort of like super humans. She’d have to think more on that concept, but now back to more questions. “If Kaylie is human and Dean is, uh, not, what is Lukas?” Their cute little baby.

  Ben shifted in his seat. “Lukas is a shifter and before you ask, he won’t be able to turn until he hits puberty.” He lowered his torso over the table, holding her gaze with the same good deal of warmth and intimacy as when he held her hand. “You see, there’s only a small percentage of the world’s female population that has the compatible DNA to produce male shifter offspring. Out of that number there’s only one or two who will cause a male shifter to, let’s say, stand up and take notice. When they touch for the first time, they initiate a, mating heat, if you will, that causes this man and woman to, get to know one another better.”

  Uh-huh. She blinked at him. “Mating heat?” Fitting name for this near overwhelming arousal, this uncanny awareness when Ben was around. Even now she was wet and ready for him. And now she finds it it wasn’t just a physical reaction, it came from deep within her DNA.

  Wait a minute. “Are you telling me...?” She simply could not bring herself to say it.

  “You’re my mate, sweetheart. You’re my other half.”

  She closed her eyes, head shaking in firm denial. “No.”

  “Yes.” He growled the single word, causing her eyes to pop open. When he reached for her again she growled herself. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Dammit, Will.” He jammed his fingers in his hair, agitation plastered all over his features.

  “Dammit nothing, Ben. You can’t expect me to accept all of this and jump back into bed with you.”

  “Why not?” His face scrunched like a petulant child, wanting something he couldn’t have.

  As for Willow, her jaw dropped at his sullenness. “Because it’s too much. Because I need to think. Because you’re a damn wolf, Ben. A wolf.”

  He stood, his anger rising to the surface, a muscle in his jaw working as he struggled to cap his fury. Every inch of his long, lean body rippled with barely held power and she suddenly realized he could probably, literally, snap her in two. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

  “What? And now you fear me? Christ, Willow! I’d sooner cut off my head than hurt a hair on yours.” He let out a string of curses, towering over her, hands fisting until his knuckles turned white.

  He turned in a circle, hands lacing behind his head. “I’m still me, Will. Still Ben. I’m the same person who took you to dinner, who taught you to ski. Who held you when you had a nightmare, for God’s sake! I’m still the same man you made love with. The man you gave your virginity to.”

  Yeah. And now she knew why. The mating heat. Ben didn’t want her for her, he wanted her because she could give him four-legged offspring.

  She refused to meet his gaze. “I need some time alone.” It was a mere whisper. “Please, Ben. Leave. If you care about me at all, leave me alone so I can think.”

  For several long minutes he stood there. Stood there watching her still form, her head down as she gazed blindly at the tabletop. Finally, after an eternity, she heard him go back into the bedroom, grab up his things and make his way to the front door. “I don’t know how long I can stay away, Willow. You’re my mate and I...need you. Your touch is a balm to my soul.”

  She kept her back to him, her spine rigid. “That’s just pheromones, Ben.”

  “All attraction starts off as pheromones, Will. Until it turns into something more meaningful. Something lasting.” He paused and she so wanted to look at him, to read his expression. She didn’t.

  “I’ll stay the rest of the night next door, then I have work in the morning. The guys will be back to”—he paused—“normal by then.”

  A minute ticked by in silence, then, “Don’t shut me out, baby.” An almost mournful sigh. “Just don’t shut me out.” With that, he slipped out the front door.

  Too shocked to feel anything, Willow remained on the kitchen chair until the sun’s light brightened the room. Three things stood out in the chaos of her mind. One, she really wanted her father. Two, she never did ask about Rome. and three, she was in love with a damn werewolf.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Willow called Rome, leaving a curt message on his phone when he had the nerve not to answer. “Did you know? Of course you knew. Why, Rome? And just what the hell are you?”

  She refused to answer her bodyguard’s calls or their knocks on the door, which occurred about every half hour. Finally she went to the door and yelled, “I’m not talking to you, so go away.” Childish, she knew, but she felt like she had the right to sulk for a few hours.

  Too much. It was all too much. She launched herself onto the couch and stared up at the ceiling. Then she listened to Ben’s messages, the one from Wednesday morning and the two from today. Over and over. The silky smooth sensuality, an animalistic purr that made her want to strip naked and rub against something hard, hot and male.

  In an attempt to distract herself from the images infiltrating her brain and arousing her body to near fever-pitch levels, she turned to the Internet for information about wolves, both real and mythical.

  When Rome finally got back in touch with her it was via text message, the coward, telling her “not over the phone.” He said he’d be back tomorrow, that she was safer where she was than in Fort Knox, and to “fkg relax.”

  It took a minute for Willow to figure out what fkg meant, at least in Rome’s shorthand, and she briefly thought of replying what exactly he could do with his suggestion. But some calmer part of her brain interjected, reminding her that the man had saved her life. So, fine. Until she saw him again, she’d fkg relax. Or try to, anyway.

  Around five thirty there came a knock on the door. Willow ignored it, thinking it was J
oe or Scott again. But whoever this person was didn’t stop. A female voice yelled, “It’s Tess, Willow. Open up.”

  Willow frowned, undecided. She didn’t know if Tess really considered Willow a friend and wanted to stop by to talk, or if the woman planned to tell Willow to keep her mouth shut about their kind.

  No self-esteem issues here.

  The knocking turned into pounding, then kicking. “Open up, little piggy, or I’ll huff and puff and—”

  Willow yanked open the door. “Did you just call me a pig?”

  Tess lowered her booted foot and hiked her skirt back down. She looked fabulous as usual, dressed in a long, tight denim skirt, a cream and tan turtleneck top with a luxurious brown, cream, and green sweater jacket over it that reached to her knees. She held a blue felt bag in one hand. “Whatever it takes.” Tess eyed Willow. “You gonna let the big baddie in?”

  Rolling her eyes, Willow stepped back, allowing Tess to enter. “So, could you really kick down the door?”

  Tess looked from Willow to the door and back again. “Nah. It’s solid core steel. Now, the door frame, that’s a different matter.” She held out the bag. “Earrings to go with the dress.”

  Crap. Willow sunk back onto the couch. “Oh.” She eyed the bag, then Tess.

  Now Tess rolled her eyes. “Seriously? I’m still the same girl you went shopping with, Will. Or do you consider me a freak now?”

  “I take it you spoke with Ben.”

  Tess settled into the chair on the other side of the wood coffee table. “I don’t know what you said to that poor man but I’ve never seen him so dejected. Like someone stole his smile. And put his heart through a paper shredder. Then fried the pieces just for spite.”

  Willow gaped. “I didn’t...”

  Tess tilted her head. “Didn’t what? Reject him?”

  Willow tossed her hands in the air. “I just said I needed time to think. To leave me alone so I could think.”

  “He’s still a male, Will, and has a bucketful of pride. All the male shifters do. Especially the ten. They have dominant, alpha, chest-beating genes programmed into their DNA. They can’t help it.”